


The Comfort of a Hard Floor

by Onehelluvapilot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Best Friends, Character Study, Chosen not born, Friendship, Gen, General Finn, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey Skywalker, Rey is Not a Palpatine, Rey is a grungy desert rat not a flower aesthetics princess, Social Anxiety, general dameron, she gets one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Post-TRoS. Rey may have saved the galaxy, but that doesn't mean she's ready to live in it yet. People are not her strong suit, so a New Year's Eve party absolutely packed with people leaves her spinning as much as BB-8 rolling down a hill. Thankfully, she has good friends who understand.
Relationships: Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	The Comfort of a Hard Floor

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to get this finished by New Years but didn't quite manage it, which is why it features a New Year's party.

Rey’s hands played nervously at the already fraying edges of her long sleeves. Frankly, she expected more durable fabric on such an expensive dress. She had also expected it to be less itchy and hot. Normally she automatically turned down any outfit with sleeves, as they always made her armpits feel sweaty and gross, but Maz had assured the desert girl that this one would be cool enough for her.

It might not have been the clothes at all then, but rather the situation. Stuck in a ballroom being forced to socialize with the politicians of the New New Republic was not the way Rey wanted to celebrate the first New Year’s Eve of the newly freed galaxy. In fact, she could think of half a dozen better things she could be doing. Jessika Pava had been trying to get her to come on a girls’ night out with Rose, Connix, D'acy, and Tyce. Poe had promised to teach her to swim; he said he had a secluded little lake in D'Qar already in mind. Even just a quiet night in with Finn, catching up on some old holos, would be better than this. All these senators, whose actual job was supposed to be governance, kept asking for her opinion on politics, as if she, a desert sand rat only recently made Jedi, had any idea how to craft a lasting democracy when the previous two had fallen to totalitarianism. She could barely even deal with people, much less offer any deep insights about their nature. The sheer number of beings here was overwhelming, and even though most politicians had the same force sensitivity as a broken hyperspace regulator, there was simply too much lifeforce bubbling around the lonely scavenger for her to feel comfortable

After midnight, when the great cheer had gone up from the crowd and they started filtering out onto balconies to watch the fireworks, Rey deemed it acceptable for her to sneak away from the party. She retreated upstairs to the suite she was sharing with the two Resistance Generals. More tired than sleepy and with the fireworks still popping outside, she quickly decided against trying to go to bed. Instead, she sat down on the floor in the middle of the suite’s common space, legs splayed out in front of her as much as the dress would allow. Changing clothes felt like too much work, as did attempting to let her hair down from the fancy tangled mess it had become. She let her torso slump forwards, her shoulders drooping and hands resting limply in her skirts.

“So, why are we sitting on the hard durasteel floor instead of the big comfy bed?” Finn asked when he walked in just a few minutes later. He must’ve either had the same idea that she had about escaping the crowded party or else noticed her missing and come to find her. His tone was somewhere between teasing and understanding, and he lowered himself gently down the wall to sit on the ground across from her.

“I like the floor,” Rey said simply. “Chairs always ask something from you, demand you sit in them a certain way. Beds coddle you, make you feel weak and fragile. The floor makes no such requirements and passes no such judgement. And when I’m sitting on the floor, nobody else expects anything of me either. Down here, people can’t look up to me. I’m not the girl who killed the emperor or the woman who saved the galaxy. A thousand of generations of Jedi don’t live in me; I can just be a desert sand rat from nowhere.”

“But you’re not, Rey,” Finn said, misinterpreting her words as self deprecation. “You’re a Skywalker.”

“Yes, I know, and it’s exhausting!” The Jedi raised her hands in a muted gesture of exasperation before dropping them back to her skirts.

“Well, Skywalkers aren’t exactly known for living simple lives.”

“No, I suppose they aren’t. Speaking of which, have you thought more about your own last name?”

“Don’t make me think about that now,” Finn groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. Five senators had already asked the same thing tonight, and he’s pointedly avoided their questions, but since this was Rey, he was willing to answer. “I haven’t decided on whether I’m even going to take a surname. Jannah and the others haven’t, and I like the solidarity it gives me with them to do the same. Besides, if I was going to try to choose a family name, what would it be? Solo-Dameron-Organa-Tico-Skywalker? That’s a bit long, I’d say.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“Maybe if I ever get married I’ll take my spouse’s name, but until then, General is enough of a title to bear.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

The two young leaders sat quietly, taking a rest after the excitement of the ballroom downstairs and the weight of identity on their shoulders. In each other’s eyes, at least, they were simply Rey and Finn. Not Generals, not half of a dyad in the Force, simply a man who chose not to be a stormtrooper and a woman who went from scavenger to hero. Having been the route to each of their self-discoveries, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves. No promotion or destiny could rob them of that understanding. When they were together, at least something made sense in the wide, incomprehensible galaxy of theirs. Words only got in the way of that half the time, so neither of them spoke and instead they just listened to each other breathe.

The fireworks outside the window had petered out, replaced by the warm glow of rising sun, by the time the door opened again. Poe danced in with the music that still drifted up from downstairs, looking as suave as ever in his sleek dark blue dress suit. The smile he wore didn’t quite disappear at the sight of them, but it softened somewhat at their exhausted and defeated postures.

“Why are we sitting on the floor?” He asked, carefully keeping all the judgement from his voice. He sat down beside them on the ground, leaning back on his hands with his legs crossed in front of him.

“Avoiding destiny and responsibility,” Finn paraphrased.

“Ah, yeah, sounds good,” General Dameron agreed. He let his head hang back on his shoulders, stretching his neck and baring his throat like a trusting vulptex. A mural of stars hung on the ceiling of their suite but he closed his eyes instead of watching them. Unmoving painted skies could not compare to the real thing. “I gotta say, I had no idea that being General came with so much shmoozing. How Leia did all of it alone is beyond me. I’d be lost without the two of you.”

“You’d be lost? You’re the one that can actually deal with this kind of shit,” Finn complained, gesturing over Poe’s suit and relaxed posture. Not only was he older and more experienced in general, but he’d grown up with people and knew how to deal with them. Rey had been alone and Finn had only the company of stormtroopers, whose humanity was stamped out at every turn. Just being in the hall with so many others was exhausting for them, much less trying to get anything done in that environment. Poe, conversely, seemed to thrive on company.

“Even I have my limits when it comes to most stuff,” the older General replied, though from the outside it appeared that even twelve hours of constant interaction with politicians hadn’t pushed him over that edge. He still looked happy and relaxed, unless that was just an act he was putting on for his friends’ benefit. “The only things that truly come naturally to me are flying and making friends.”

“Isn’t making friends a very useful part of diplomacy?” Rey retorted.

“Well, I mean, yes, but that’s not what I meant.” Poe sat up straight and reached a hand out to her. His fingertips rested against the calluses of her palm, not grasping, just touching, when she returned the gesture. It felt natural and right, easy in a way that nothing else was anymore. To Rey, it brought back memories of a similar touch, and she allowed the image of Ben in her mind fade away below the sight of Poe, his kind eyes and five o’clock shadow. “It’s different, with the two of you. I mean, each of you saved my life the first time we met. That’s the kind of thing that creates bonds, not small talk over champagne.”

“It’s the Force,” Finn said with certainty. “That’s what brought us together.”

“Well, that and BB-8,” Rey pointed out, gesturing over to where he was charging in the corner. The droid warbled something rude about Finn calling him chopped liver, essentially ruining whatever moment the three humans had been having. The ex-stormtrooper understood just enough binary to realize that he owed the astromech an apology before the little pyromaniac rolled over and tried to set his pant leg on fire.

“I’m sorry, BB, I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t play a role in our meeting. I know the Force doesn’t affect droids-” He was cut off by a series of bleeps in a tone more angry than Finn had ever heard from the droid, and that was saying something.

“He says that’s racist,” Rey translated helpfully.

“Also, have you  _ heard _ about R2-D2?” Poe added, standing up and gesturing theatrically. “I mean, I’ll differ to the expert on Jedi matters, but the success of both the Resistance and the Rebellion absolutely depended on droids being in the right place at the right time and there is no way that wasn’t the will of the Force.”

“Oh, it absolutely was,” Rey agreed. She stretched upwards, back arching and a yawn briefly splitting her face. “As far as I know, inorganic life cannot wield the Force, but it’s far from unaffected by it.”

“Alright, my bad,” Finn continued his apology. He took the hand Poe offered down to him and let his co-general help him to his feet. “Thanks. And thank you, BB-8, for both being a conduit for the will of the Force and making autonomous decisions that lead to the three of us meeting. It was very helpful in both our personal lives and for saving the galaxy. There, is that good?” BB-8 beeped in agreement. “Good. Rey, do you want me to throw you down some pillows and blankets, Ms. “the floor is my happy place” Skywalker, or are you actually going to come to bed?”

The Jedi considered for a minute before shaking her head. She was feeling a lot less overwhelmed now, and thought she could handle moving away from the floor and the reprieve from ordinary life that it offered. “I’ll come to bed.” She had spent too much of her life sleeping in uncomfortable places to pass up the chance to lie in a feather bed. She let Finn help her out of her dress, as she doubted she could do it herself without ripping the delicate fabric, and Poe was surprisingly delicate as he unbraided and brushed out her hair. They all hugged goodnight before retreating to their rooms to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Rey's posture when she's sitting on the floor is based on that one cat that's told to sit like a lady. Her musings about why the floor is good are my own.
> 
> I live for comments. Tell me what you think, including what you think could be improved.


End file.
